Page:The International - Volume 3.djvu/521



IEWED in any light a horse is a horse. But a modern horse show, such as the one seen in Chicago during the first week in November, is largely an exhibition of society. The highest development of man's noblest slave serves only as a plausible excuse for the gathering of all that is most cultured in a great city. The horse appears in the posters and in the advance notices, but smart frocks and the grace of woman—and of man, too—go to make up the real show.

For a long time efforts to have in Chicago a spectacle of high-bred steeds met with a cool reception. Too much stress was laid upon what naturally ought to occupy the attention of all spectators at such an exhibition. The exhibit of man was forgotten. The promotors cared more for feather legged Clydesdales and perhaps a grunting, shapeless pig, than for the real element which makes such undertakings financial surprises. The State Board of Agriculture, its imagination bounded by the fence around a county fair, could not be made to believe that there would be success in a presentation of horses such as ladies and gentlemen dote upon, together with a competent management and a location where an imported ideal of the gown maker would be in proper place.

But at last there came a change, and for that credit is due to a mistake made by this same State Board of Agriculture. Those who know the temper of a refined community secured the upper hand in the direction of affairs. This time the spectator, after all the real centre of attraction. was not made to play a speechless part. And so the Chicago Horse Show of 1897—and the declaration is made without fear of shrugging shoulders—was a complete success.

Thanks to social man and woman, the horse once more has had his triumph in these days of electricity, bicycles and motocycles. He has demonstrated that he is here to stay always. Not the plugging, spavined, wind-broken street car nag, but the sleek, graceful, spirited animal that parades the boulevards and dwells in steam heated stalls.

Never before has the carriage horse, the roadster or the racer been held in greater esteem. He is courted and petted, and praised and admired as much as a rare bit of lace or a painting by a master hand. No chainless bicycle can supplant him. As well declare that the ocean greyhound or the chugging naptha launch will drive out the